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mind, but complete thoughts remained elusive. For a heartbeat lasting an eternity she simply stared at him.
    She was innocent!
    How could he suspect her? Easily. But if she bristled, he'd likely call that proof. Far better, she decided, to understand him superficially, to avoid the treacherous undercurrents and navigate down the center of the channel. Unfortunately, her rational mind did not hold sway. It was falling before stampeding emotion.
    Never had she felt so condemned. Near hysterical laughter welled up in her throat. She would not let it overwhelm her! Ruthlessly she clamped down on the rising emotional tide. Questions. Commonplaces. They could pull her away from the treacherous waters. She looked up at him brightly, smiling like a Bedlamite as she pulled her scattered senses together, searching through the emotional rocks for a safe harbor.
    "Did you by any chance bring clothes for Chrissy? I'm afraid that sack-like dress she is wearing was the best we could find for her on short notice. Unfortunately we have no shoes that would fit her. Did you bring any shoes? If not, I suppose I could ask Mrs. Thrailwithe. Her daughter, Dorinda, is only two or three years older than Chrissy. She may have shoes or boots to fit."
    Now she was babbling, running on like a fiddlestick! With chagrin, Leona bit down on her lower lip.
    "That won't be necessary, Miss Leonard. I have a portmanteau strapped to my horse. Mother insisted I cool my heels for fifteen minutes while she packed it." A faint smile turned up his lips to compliment his deliberate attempt at humor. "I have every confidence it will contain more than Chrissy requires. Furthermore, my friend Mr. Fitzhugh follows me to Crawfords Dean in our carriage. It will meet us at the Golden Goose. I have faith it, too, will be loaded with needless amenities." Again that tantalizing ghost of a smile.
    Chrissy squirmed around in his lap to face him. "David's coming?"
    Mr. Deveraux looked down at his niece, smiling. This smile broadened until it lit his eyes, changing them from hard-cut gems to the softness of bluebells. The change unnerved Leona.
    "Could you doubt it, poppet? I vow that if you were ten years older, it would be you he'd marry rather than Lucy."
    Chrissy giggled- "That's silly. He's too old."
    He tickled her ribs. "Old! He's thirty! I'll have you remember, minx, that he and I are of the same age," he growled playfully.
    Leona was surprised to discover his age to be thirty. He had looked far older when he entered the cottage; but now, seeing him play with his niece and seeing some of the tension leave his face, the years visibly fell away revealing a boyish charm.
    "Excuse me."
    "Maria!" Leona said with a hint of embarrassed exasperation at the sight of her companion standing at the entrance to the parlor holding a tray in her hands like a serving maid.
    "I do realize it is early, but I thought Mr. Deveraux could do with a nice glass of port to warm him after his long ride." She came into the room carrying their best silver tray on which rested a decanter of port, a cut crystal wineglass, and the chocolate pot to refill Chrissy's cup.
    "Let me help," begged Chrissy, sliding off her uncle's lap. She cleared a space on a nearby table, retrieved her cup from the floor by the hearth, and handed it to Maria to refill.
    Nigel Deveraux rose to greet Maria, and Leona was forced to make the formal introduction.
    "Mr. Deveraux, this is my companion, Miss Sprockett."
    Her tone was not as gracious as it customarily was. Fortunately no one noticed.
    "Delighted, Miss Sprockett." He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.
    Leona smiled sourly behind their backs. He had never ventured to kiss her hand. Her suspicions were lamentably proving accurate.
    Maria blushed rosily and bobbed a curtsey.
    Leona was annoyed to see her friend in a flutter. It was obvious she was taken with the gentleman.
    He nodded solemnly. "You're very considerate, Miss Sprockett. I should be happy for a